All We Know
by LVM
Summary: Twelve that weren't meant to be. Now, they're running rampant. Why does Xavier feel he has a part to play in their lives[CHAPTER III UP[begins before X2 but continues on through it. OC's and XMEN characters introduced]
1. I

**Exclaimer:** I do not, nor do I want to, own anything to do with X-Men or X-Men related characters, settings or technology. I do not claim to nor do I wish to gain profit from this story.

**Authors Note:** This first chapter begins with an introduction to my character, Zachariah. He is one of12 who will appear in this story.  
I have set this so that X2 doesn't happen – or not yet, it just gives me an easier job and I HATE the way everyone feels post X2. (Apart from the loss of a key character) It also makes everything revolved around that said character and I really don't like that said character enough to write about how everyone feels about her.Feel free to flame me - ONLY WHEN I HAVE GOTTEN INTO THE STORY – or to critique my writing skills ("You suck" doesn't count) or you could tell me how fantastic you think this is and I wouldn't dissuade you from doing that. I work on a "You review me, and I review you" basis so go ahead – read it!

I will post a new chapter as soon as it is ready!

**ALL WE KNOW**

**CHAPTER ONE**

He knelt in the shadowed arbour of the church, coloured lights dancing before his eyes and hands clasped in silent plea, his brown hair falling about his face in tangle of curls.  
He mouthed the last words of the Lords Prayer before standing up stiffly and turning for the door. With one last glance at the crucifix hanging behind the altar, illuminated by the stained glass windows, he stumbled out into the darkness, hands buried in his pockets, grasping at whatever heat he could find.  
It was a cold December evening and the reddish black sky was lashing the streets with driving rains and bitter winds. The boy wandered aimlessly down through the orange glow of the street lamps, eyes scanning the street for movement.  
His skin prickled as he felt hot neon light flash at him from above. His feet had brought him here, his last refuge. When even the hand of God couldn't lead him through his trails, he turned here, with its perverted silences, dirty glasses and tainted drinks. He stared at the blinking sign, letting the red lights wash over him like a friendly melody he had heard many times before, the image burning into his memory.

_The Stein and the Chalice_

He leant on the cold bar and glanced around, the usuals had perched themselves in their favourite places, cigarette smoke was hanging heavily in the air and the sound of drunken slurs and mutterings shot at him from all directions. It was all so familiar, so oddly comforting, he settled into a quiet repose and looked toward the bar tender and waved a hand. The old man smiled, his icy façade thrown to the floor, he abandoned the glass he was cleaning and made a beeline straight for him.  
Without questioning his age, beer was poured into a questionable looking mug and thrust into his hand.  
"Zach, wha's a boy like yourself doin' out this late?" The bar tender chuckled as the boy took a grateful sip of the beer and wiped his mouth with the sleave of his jumper.  
Zachariah Gregory knew perfectly well why he was out that late but if he told Harry why, it would destroy the intricate web of lies that had become his reality, maybe that was a chance he would have to take.  
Zachariah laughed too, but it sounded more forced than he'd intended, Harry let it pass and filled up the glass again.  
"Whatcha bin up to lately?" The old man choked, coughing into the rag he had been cleaning the bar top with. Somehow, Zachariah was sure it wasn't the first time.  
"You know, the usual." he lowered his voice as another man sat down at the bar.  
"I'm in trouble. I did something... Something that could get me arrested. I can't stay with my family anymore. I need somewhere to go..." Zachariah's voice broke and he looked sideways at the man in a leather jacket who had been sitting beside him patiently waiting for the bartender to disengage with the boy and start serving drinks again.  
He eyed his dubious taste in clothing and wondered how much hair gel it must have taken to create those strange dog ear points in his hair.  
Harry was staring too. He found the mans appearance a lot more shocking than Zachariah's story could ever be, it wasn't the first time he had heard that sort of a tale in this bar.  
The strange-looking man glared back. "Can I have a drink?" He growled, baring his pointed yellow teeth.  
Now clutching a bottle of beer, he slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved a cell phone, punched a number into the key pad and held it to his ear.  
"Hey, yeah, he's here." The man grunted. The muffled sound of another man's voice came as a response.  
"Well how the hell am I supposed to do that?" There was a long pause and the wolf-like man seemed to come to a resolve.  
"Give me five minutes." He snapped the phone shut and emptied the bottle, motioning for another. He glanced at the boy, his brown eyes glinting in the hazy light.  
"You're a bit young, aren't you?" He muttered.  
The boy looked startled at being addressed by him, but replied with a steady voice. "Appearances can be deceiving, Sir."  
Once the bar tender what out of ear shot, the man leant in closer. "What If I was to tell you that I know what you are and what you've done."  
Zachariah's eyes darted to the door, his bottom lip trembled and his fingers tightened around the crucifix in his hand.  
Within seconds the boy was on his feet and heading for the door with the man not far behind him.  
The sound of Harry's shouts were lost under the sound of 20 or so chairs scraping on the floor as every single person in the bar stood up to get a better look.

_I'm drunk... I'm far too drunk..._

Tables were throwing themselves out of Zachariah's path, some not fast enough.  
He tripped, flying forwards and running straightinto the closed door that shuddered open, letting the boy runout into the night.  
Every sound in the bar was magnified. The horrified murmurs of the customers, a woman's scream, the sickening crack of fist meeting flesh, the thud of something heavy hitting the groundand the click of a revolver being loaded.  
Logan cocked his head sideways. The bar tender held the gun with steady hands and it was directed at him.  
"Leave." Harry demanded, his eyes becoming cold and emotionless.  
Logan's knuckles tingled. The urge was so overwhelming, to drive a blow into the man's gut and watch him fall to the floor, to kill.  
"I said LEAVE!" he closed his finger around the trigger.  
Logan nodded, his urge left unfulfilled, he threw open the door and left without another word.

"Not exactly an orthodox approach to things, Scott" Xavier said as metallic blue Mazda roared into life.  
"But I don't think our friend would have come any other way."  
Scott smiled and glanced back at the now unconscious form of Zachariah Gregory who was sprawled across the back seat, mouth slightly open, a bruise slowly forming around his left eye,beside him was a very disgruntled looking Logan who refused to talk about the incident, arms crossed and face set as the Mazda pulled away and tore off toward the Mansion.

* * *

**NB: **for those of you who don't understand how Scott is connected to Zach appearing in the car, which is obviously a faux pas on my behalf, I shall point out a few sentences that you may have overlooked:  
-the sickening crack of fist meeting flesh  
-the thud of something heavy hitting the ground  
and  
-a bruise slowly forming around his left eye  
hopefully this will help you understand, I thought it had been more obvious when I wrote it...

**Up next:** Zachariah explaned.


	2. II

**BN: **Thanks to **Shadow of Phantom**, **White Wolf0095**, **Charon315**, **crazycatluver **and **Takame Kiriku **for their reveiws, while not all of them said what I had wanted, they are usefull in their own little ways and I have taken them in my stride, hopefully, they will improve my writing skills.  
I am expecting more from you lot so read up! I hope that you injoy this chapter!

**ALL WE KNOW**

**CHAPTER TWO**

"Mr Gregory was part of an experiment performed 16 years ago. His own father, a close friend of mine, was the successor of Genetix Development in New York. He was the top of his field. His ideas were radical, far too radical for his time.  
When he took control over Genetix in 1989, he went what some would call insane.  
His idea, the one he proposed to me and I declined, was beyond insanity, it was inhumane, but he had lost touch with what he once believed in.  
The theory was that humans could attain animal-like qualities and abilities through genetic remodelling. This idea is not unlike that of other scientists who believe that humans can be cloned and their appearances are altered. The theory is plausible and has worked, but it is the morals behind it that one objects to.  
Twenty five unborn subjects who had the X gene were chosen and underwent the surgery. Six were still born. Five years into the experiment and a further four had rejected the DNA and had died from complications.  
Now exiled from the scientific community, Doctor Gregory was said to have disposed of the twelve remaining "A-Class" mutants. I am the only person that has knowledge of their whereabouts.  
It has come to my attention that they have become not only a danger to themselves but to the public and they must be sought out." Xavier turned off the projector and glanced at his team.

"I believe that Zachariah runs under the alias "Chameleon". Fortunately, when the "A-Class" experiment was aborted, the files became public property and I have studied them many times.  
Mr Gregory, as far as was reported, has the ability to change his appearance, but has struggled with his mutation. Whilst Jean monitored him last night, he changed form several times.  
A DNA test returned inconclusive as his DNA structure changes on a very regular basis. For a while, both Doctor Grey and I where baffled, but after further tests, and a phone call to our friend Doctor McCoy, we came up with a solution to this peculiar problem.  
Mr Gregory possesses the rare ability to acquire others mutations, not unlike Rogue, but he does not need to come into physical contact with the person with the desired mutation and he cannot use the power once he learns to use another and must acquire it again to use it. This was not part of the genetic remodelling he underwent.  
Both Jean and I believe that this is his natural mutation surfacing. While he cannot just "borrow" a mutation, his body undergoes a series of changes to let him use each mutation as if it were his own. Sometimes this process can be very painful and the changes necessary do not happen, thus creating strange, uncontrollable powers."

Xavier became quite and let his gaze drift again. Logan, while somewhat aware of what the professor was talking about, and dare he say it, quite interested, was leaning against the window frame, his eyes surveying the expansive grounds bellow, nose and ears twitching as new scents rose and fell on the breeze and noises crackled in the background.  
Scott was perched on an armchair, attentive as ever, brown eyes watching the professor contently from behind his red quartz sunglasses. Finally his own eyes came to rest on Ororo who was standing just behind Scott, a hand on his shoulder, a shock of white hair drifted about her shoulders, framing her wise face.

"I have no doubt that Mr Gregory has no wish of staying, and that his eleven counterparts will not wish to come here either, but it is essential that they must. They are scattered about New York, most have found shelter with families or orphanages, but some have not been as fortunate. Tomorrow, we shall extend the offer to them, those that refuse will come the same way Mr Gregory did." The professor moved from his desk and headed for the door, flashing Scott a brief smile. "As for now, I believe we are wanted down in the medi-lab."

Pain drove his every thought, every shallow intake of air.It consumed him, every cell in his body was screaming, refusing to make the changes that his mind was demanding.  
Screams echoed in his head, others' thoughts mingled with his. Confused and lost within himself, unsure of who or what he was, he cried out for help but there came no answer.

Then it ended, the pain seeped from his body like blood from a wound, his mind was quite.

Now aware of the horrible throbbing silence, and oddly, the smell of antiseptic, he ached his eyes open and blinked painfully in the hard electric light

"Zachariah"

The word sounded as if it had been screamed in his ear. He cringed, head pounding.  
Irregular shapes surrounded him. Noises grew and shimmered over head. One of the shapes reached out and touched his bare skin – "Zachariah?"  
He squinted, trying to focus on the blank face above him, dissolving into confused mumbling when the shape became Jean Grey.  
He sat upright, fearful eyes darting about the lab frantically. "What the hell?" He breathed, pulling himself away from the woman's gentle touch.

She frowned and reached out for him again.

_NO!_ He screamed in her mind, and she withdrew her hands from him. "Mr Gregory, please calm down, I am just running some very basic tests- "

"What the hell is going on!" He yelled

"Jean, if I may?" Xavier's calm voice sounded as he wheeled in, flanked by two men Zachariah had already come in contact with.The boy sat still under the powerful stares of all three men, a steady glare settling in his features.

"Mr Gregory, I believe you have met both of these men before," He laughed as if sharing a joke with himself, the shorter of the two, Scott Summers, gave an amused smile, his obscure looking sunglasses glinting in the fluorescent glow, the other looked less pleased, Logan's jaw was set and his brow furrowed, his muscular arms folded across his heaving chest, all adding up to a rather unattractive appearance.

"I, on the other hand, have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, I am Charles Xavier." He extended a hand and Zach took it reluctantly.

"Do you think you could manage a tour of my school, I assure you, I will explain EVERYTHING in due course."

The boy was on the verge of refusing the offer, and If not for Logan making threatening movements behind the professor's back, he would have. The whole scene was ludicrous, the metal plated medi-lab, the seemingly ageless doctor and the wheelchair bound nutcase, the fact that he had been kidnapped, it was enough send any sane person packing.  
He had heard of Xavier, and his school, it had been all over the news for the last few months.

"Mutant training base right here in New York"

"Xavier in league with public enemy number 1"

"Xavier Institute for gifted criminals and monsters"

"Well," Zach began, his eyes cold slits, "since you were kind enough to abduct me, I guess I'll have to say yes." He said, sarcasm dripping from his words.

* * *

**Up next:** An introduction of the A Class mutants 


	3. III

**BN**: Thanks go out to **LilPrincessMe2000**, **Regan Trinity**, **Takame Kiriku**, **WhiteWolf0095**, **writergirl182003** and **KerriRane** for their reviews, awesome stuff!

**ALL WE KNOW**

**CHAPTER THREE**

The monotonous ticking of the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the common room echoed painfully in Zachariah's head. The

grandfather clock itself was something to be admired. Skilful hands had carved intricate patterns into the cherry coloured oak, framing it's glass face, hands whiling away the seconds and minutes like it had for decades.

The clock had been placed strategically as to catch ones eye, along with other ornamental objects that were dotted about the mansion, but the attempt had been made in vain, their beauty shadowed by numerous plasma wide screens, hi-fi systems, and other articles of technology that hadn't been put on the market yet.

Xavier smiled as he pulled up beside the boy, who had collapsed into a leather winged armchair by the window, light pouring over his body as his face darkened, aged and changed shape, loosing a foot in height and becoming rather large around the middle, now looking rather ridiculous in jeans that were far to tight around the waist and a T-shirt that barely covered his bulging stomach, Zachariah grimaced, adding to his now rather unpleasant complexion, catching his reflection in the glass.

"Disgusting, isn't it." He said, intending it to be less of a question than it was a statement, running a hand through his hair that had turned a bright shade of amber.

"I can hardly remember what I look like sometimes."

Zachariah closed his eyes, red light still burning brightly through his eyelids. Everything Xavier had told him, all that he already knew about his past, about his father and the other A Class mutants, how he understood him so well, and why he had done the things he had, was rather overwhelming and the pain that had consumed him before was threatening to do so again, itching at his mind and body tenaciously.

"Mr Gregory." Xavier said, cursing himself silently at the urgency in his tone. "Here at my school, we can provide you with everything, a place to learn and master your skills, the kind of attention that you deserve, shelter from the cold touch of hatred. I can only offer you these things, I cannot force them upon you, it is your decision and no one else's."

Zach let the words wash over him, eyes looking past his reflection at the grounds bellow, at the pine trees in the south-west stirred in the wind, his eyes drifted down to the immaculate box hedges cut perfectly square that followed the fence line and the blood-red blooms of roses that were scattered amongst garden beds, to the children that were dotted hither thither across the lawns and sports courts, all of which seemed, in a way, surreal and daunting. How could one man and a handful of followers pull together such an untouched sanctuary without funding or support?

"Never accept the hand of a man who hides his other" The very same words his mother had offered him before he left the house the day before. But he hadn't intended on going back to the crappy hell hole, had he? And Zachariah was certainly not one to refuse an offer where the pros clearly outweighed the cons, so he nodded before voicing his conditions.

"I need to talk to my mother; she needs to understand the arrangements."

Xavier watched the boy go through yet another painful transformation, sensing a different sort of change.

After a few moments of pressing silence, Zach turned to the bald professor and gave a lopsided smile.

"Quite a talent you have there, Sir, it may come in handy in the future, but now, I fully understand your means, as for your wish to round up the rest of the freaks that I share an origin with, I believe I can help you."

The train swayed violently, wheels sparking on the track as it sped through the dark subway, off white lights flickering in the carriages as it pulled to a shuddering halt at Central Park North. Logan cast a dark glare at a small boy perched on his mother's knee who had been gawping at him for most of the trip. The boy then promptly burst into tears and was dragged away, lost amongst the swirling crowds on the platform, their seats immediately occupied.  
Scott, who had been drifting in and out of a light sleep was thrown forward as the train jerked to life, into a woman heading to work, legs crossed, Italian high heals moving with the rhythm of the train. She gave a disgruntled "Hmmf" eyeing his sunglasses with disgust before looking in the other direction. Logan barely managed to suppress a laugh, his chest shaking with the effort.

Behind the pair were the rest of the X-Men throng, Jean, Ororo, Rogue, who had refused to let Logan go without her, her boyfriend, Bobby, a very unamused looking John and Zachariah Gregory, who's body had settled in a form that suited him much more than any that he had taken in their company had before. A tangle of blond hair fell about his tanned face, a soft dusting of freckles covered his nose and cheeks surrounded his pale green eyes, he was tall, but not so tall as to draw attention to himself. He looked, dare he say it, normal

That wasn't a word he used often, and he had a feeling he wouldn't be using it much more.

As the train pulled up to 148 St, Zach made a move for the door, calling out to Scott as he did so.

It was 10:43 on a cold Friday morning , the surge of commuters was slowly dwindling which made it easy for Zach to navigate the underground tunnels that snaked away in different directions. His feet moved fast across the paved floor, dodging glances of others, drawing back sometimes as to not loose Xavier's crew.

After walking for some time in the dimly lit passageway, Zach came to a stop beside an escalator that had stopped running months ago, the exit above it, blocked off.

On the filth smeared wall several feet away, a poster condemning mutants hung boldly, even under the layers of dirt and graffiti that had built up over the years, the image was still clear.

'We come here every Friday, a stupid tradition, I know, but it keeps us connected, lets us know we're not alone -'

Zach brushed the hair out of his eyes as his voice trailed off, his gaze darting about the X-Men, not lingering long enough to show he had paid much attention to them.

'What do you mean "here"?" John snapped, his boredom getting the better of him as it always did. "This is a fucking subway escalator! What, do you just sit here, reliving the days when you outgrew your test tubes?"

"John!" was the word that escaped most mouths; Bobby dealt out a well deserved jab in the ribs while both Ororo and Scott gave their best _That-was-incredibly-rude-and-inappropriate_ stares. Logan just snorted and stared at his feet, arms crossed.

Zachariah, who was used to attacks like this, just smiled at the boy's idiocy and began again.

"There is a group, as I'm sure your beloved leader must know, which is named, quite ironically, The Underground.

Not unlike your school, The Underground is a group that supports mutants who can no longer live under the contemptuous stare of the public eye for varying reasons. While I don't belong to this group, most of the A Class mutants do.'  
Now leaving the group, huddled together to keep warm in the icy deserted subway, Zach approached the poster and ran his hands up the side of the metal frame that encased it. Glancing back down the tunnel, finding it devoid of life, (except stray rodents that had wandered to far from the tracks), he pried the advert clean off the wall and stepped into the dark whole it had left in its absence.

Then, one after another, hesitantly at first, the X-Men followed suit.

They walked for what seemed like hours, the passage dipped lower into the ground as the light dimmed. The hubbub of excited voices grew, echoing off the walls. Taking a sharp left, the X-Men found themselves in a crowded hall packed with mutants of all sorts, one, that only Logan recognised, who was all too familiar. Mystique glanced at the group as they waded their way through the masses toward the apartment doors at the other end of the room. She was, however, invisible to the others, taking a form that most would just look past. Looking back to the man beside her, red eyes peering out from underneath a truckie cap, she spoke quietly "If you miss this opportunity, Mr Le Beau, your position in The Brotherhood will be filled." He nodded weakly and drank heavily from his glass.

The boy who could be none other than Bear, rose to his oversized feet, towering over the others in the room at 6ft7 as the X-Men filed in through the apartment door, his powerfully built upper body coming level with Scott's line of eyesight. Derek Valmorbida drank in the new scents, blinking slowly, looking surlier as the moments drew on. After sourcing Zach's scent, he pulled him from the crowd and embraced him in a rib crushing hug. "thou' ya were dead, didn' we, ya little rat!" Derek roared, messing up his dirty blond hair.

"See loo' Snake, Ah told ya! Ah new he was alrigh'" Baring all of his oversized pointed teeth in a triumphant grin, throttling the poor boy in his arms.

She rose from the darkness like something out of a child's nightmare, bold red eyes searching the faces of each of the X-Men, daring them to say a word. Ebony scales carved intricate patterns over what should be her skin, feathery black hair hung jaggedly about her shoulders, and her flesh was pulled taught over her slight frame, Camilla Zahara or Snake as she had come to be called, was by no means the most conspicuous mutant in the room, and as her name suggested, she had powers to match. Smiling broadly, fangs protruding from her upper jaw, she paced the room in a matter of strides, bones moving underneath her skin, to were the wary group had positioned themselves.

"And you must be the X-Men." She said, addressing them all by name and shaking their hands firmly. "Xavier spoke of you all fondly. He has explained everything to me, and though we are not without our hesitations, we all know where we stand on the matter, so there will be no need for talk on the subject, If you wish to speak to those who are not so easily convinced of your brilliance, please do so only if they wish to hear you.' She glanced back at one of her counterparts, a small smile playing at her lips.

'Firstly, I would like to introduce you all.'

Wolf rose up off his seat to greet the group, sharp black eyes darting from face to face, registering the new scents. His thin lower lip twitched when his eyes came to rest on Logan.

Barely older than 16, William Blaine's hair was completely grey and stuck out at odd angles, accentuating his pointed facial features. Across the hodge podge of furniture, sat his twin, Artemis, soft grey hair, identical to her brothers, tied up messily behind her head, hard black eyes darting about their faces intently, pointed teeth glinting as she smiled, muscular arms folded across her chest. She muttered a barely audible "Hey" before sinking back into the couch.

The Next three, Xylina "Cheetah" Garth, Julian "Gorilla" Mollokov and Sophia "Vampire" D'ambrosio, the latter, who had disagreed so strongly with Xavier's offer, she had broken several lamps and a coffee table with her anger, the remains now sitting at the bottom of the rubbish bin, were lined up on a rather pathetic looking couch, all looking less than happy to see the Mutant Rights crusaders.

In the corner, huddled about a stove, were the remaining A Class mutants, or those who had bothered to hear to Professor out.

Lydia Alexander was scrubbing a dubious looking pan, her alias, Serval, barely described her, but it was her friend, Djilla Mahai that was perhaps the most interesting looking of the group. A Mohawk of ivory hair crowned her head, her amber eyes perused the group as she added another plate to the brown dish water in the sink and made a half-hearted attempt to clean it. The last of the mutants was Matthew "Hawk" Southward, barely visible behind tawny angelic wings that were protruding from his bare muscular back, feathers rustling as he turned to greet them.

After all were seated, (Logan finding himself perched on a lopsided dining table and John, who was looking less and less amused, had found a connection with Sophia, unknowingly rambling about how great the mansion was, something he would never admit to.) Snake stood up and looked directly at Scott.

"I believe there are some things that we are entitled to know, Mr Summers, and some things that Mr Wolverine should know as well"


End file.
